Powder Paws
by hungrygiant
Summary: Our beloved duo find themselves facing an unprecedented crime wave involving violence, conspiracy, and corruption. Can they put a stop to it before crime tears Zootopia apart?
1. Blackbox

Chapter 1

Blackbox

Quiet. It was eerily quiet. Even though there was the constant drone of the crickets who were hidden in and amongst the tall grass, it felt quiet. Like looking at a photograph and hearing the sounds, but nothing ever moved in the portrait, remaining still as stone in the dim moonlight.

A flick of movement caught his eye, and Saul immediately reached into his jacket, grasping the tranquilizer gun secured under his arm by pure instinct. His eyes darted to the source only to see his partner adjusting his position a little ways away.

 _Saul, calm down! It's only him! Get a hold of your nerves before you end up shooting somebody!_ Quickly scanning the trees he was near, he picked out his fellow mammal, Gerry, by a cottonwood tree. If you weren't looking for him, you never would have spotted the arctic wolf in the tall grass. _Two more hours and you'll be out of here with the package. You can do this._

Just then, he realized he'd been squeezing his tranq gun even harder under his jacket and he immediately released it, paw shooting to his lap. Tranqing himself in the side was one of the last things he wanted to do tonight, the other was waiting for the package.

 _Oh yeah! The package!_ His eyes darted away from where he had been looking at his comrade and back to the dark sky, scanning the ever still night for the slight hint of a high pitched whistle. Since they were far away from any place with other canines. _What was it, Bunny Burrow, or some dumb place like that?_ Well, wherever they were, there weren't any other canines around. At least none that they knew of, so they could safely use a dog whistle as their signal.

He scanned the sky in vain hoping to spot the small drop plane against a canopy of stars. Anything to take his mind off what could happen, as any time he would let himself, he would start to imagine as many bad scenarios as his brain could, most of them unlikely, but some scarily possible.

 _What if the ZBI followed us out here, or maybe they got the dropman? Maybe they caught up to him in a busting plane and forced him to drop over water? Did he get lost? What's Klawper going to do if we fail?_

The last question rang around in his head a few times, clearing everything else out except for the vivid images of what happened to the last mammal. He reached down and rubbed his ankles. _Just thinking about that hurts…_

A rock bounced off of his head and he nearly jumped into the tree above him. Jolting to attention with fear in his eyes, his head darted around like a top looking for ZBI agents armed with armfuls of pebbles, but he only saw his partner glaring at him over the tall grass. He realized that he was moving more than he was supposed to, enough to make his partner mad, and shot stock still instantly, closing his eyes tight.

 _OMIGOSH OMIGOSH OMIGOSH OMIGOSH OMIGOSH THEY SAW ME I KNEW IT THE ZBI FOLLOWED US AND I JUST GAVE US AWAY OMIGOSH OMIGOSH OMIGOSH!_ He silently panicked against the tree he was leaning against, keeping his eyes closed, listening.

...

Quiet.

...

He slowly cracked one eye, preparing to see mammals in black combat gear loading out of black vans, but instead, a field. A silent field. A silent, unmoving, not full of ZBI agents, field.

 _PHEW!_ His relief almost audible, he relaxed a little, but still made sure to stay still. _Wow! I really am just a ball of nerves! Deep breaths, calm down, you'll be laughing about this tomorrow. See, look, empty field!_ He gave himself a reassuring nod. _Absolutely nothing to be afraid of. Just a normal, quiet, grassy, nice, unthreat-HOLYMOTHEROF-!_

Suddenly, an owl that had been sleeping in the tree above took flight, and the small fluttering noise of it's wings sent the little brown wolf flying from his hiding spot. He sprang up like someone had just filled his undies with hot coals and dove away from the tree as fast as he could. He tried to land with a roll, but instead got a muzzlefull of dirt as he face planted into the hard dusty ground, scrabbling hopelessly at his side for his tranq gun at the same time.

"IT'S THE ZBI! IT'S THE ZB-!" Before he could continue screaming at the top of his lungs and alerting _literally_ every bunny in the area, Gerry tackled him to the ground, clamping his paw over Saul's muzzle in one smooth action. Rolling him so that he could sit on top of him, the wolf ducked low to try to hide his head in the tall grass. Saul tried his best to buck the larger wolf off, but to no avail.

"What are you thinking!" Even though it was a whisper, the venom in his voice was quite evident. "Are you _trying_ to get us all killed! Or worse yet, make us _fail_!" Saul momentarily stopped writhing and screaming into the paw as he was reminded of the consequences for their failure. They both shared a silent shudder at the memory. Seeing that he had scared Saul enough to shut his trap, the other wolf slowly lifted his paw from his mouth.

"ZBI! ZB-!" He instantly clamped his paws around Saul's mouth again, trying his best to shut his idiot partner up, although it was no use, as he continued to writhe and scream under his grasp. _This is going to be a really, REALLY, long night._ Gerry thought to himself, trying to pin Sauls flailing arms with only one of his.

 _Finally, some quiet!_ Gerry thought as he made his way back to his spot under a large cottonwood tree and reclined against the rough bark. He resumed his task of listening for the whistle and waiting for the package he knew would come with it.

Scritch scritch. Scritch. Scritchscritchscritchscri- Gerry grabbed a rock near his feet and chucked it at Saul's head, hitting him right between the eyes. Saul could only whimper, as he was tied tightly to his tree to keep him from causing any more disturbances. He had been wiggling around in the ropes trying to find a more comfortable spot when a rock hit him in the head. Gerry glared at him with dangerous eyes. _SHUT. UP._ he mouthed the words while jabbing his finger in Saul's direction. Saul instantly held stock still at the threat, not wanting Gerry's rage upon him.

 _It doesn't matter if this is remote, we can't take any chances of being spotted._ _If he DARES to move just one more time, I WILL tranq him!_ He resumed listening and waiting. After a few moments, he glanced down at his watch, which was barely illuminated by the faint moonlight that was streaming down through the clouds. 4:43 am. If the package didn't get there soon, they would be forced to either leave empty handed, or risk being seen by farmers as they lugged it out suspiciously.

Gerry took a glance down at what he was wearing: black T-shirt, khakis, and a black leather jacket. Obviously not a farmer, obviously out of place to any mammal with half a brain. Saul was wearing a track jacket and pants with a T-shirt underneath, and unless he ran the two hundred or so miles to Bunny Burrow on his morning jog, he would stick out like an elephant at a vole convention.

Even if they could play off their looks, getting the package around would be more than suspicious. Gerry glared over his shoulder at the dark brown wolf tied to a tree, his frantic amber eyes scanning the skies a mile a minute. _If that dope didn't run the side of a fence post and bend the axle of the crappy old van, we wouldn't have to lug the whole thing out by foot!_ _Maybe we can stash it and search for a payphone…_

Neither of them owned phones, as their line of work was dangerous, and phones could be tracked. _We have plenty of contacts though, and if we could just reach somebody with a vehicle, I just might be able to get out of this whole mess for a little while_. His gaze softened and he looked back up towards the sky.

 _Perhaps he flew too high? Or missed the spot? I wouldn't be surprised if that idiot forgot to blow the whistle again when he dropped it and we just missed seeing the chute. I mean, it's a pretty heavy package after all, it must have a big chute to get it to the ground without damaging anything._

He scanned the field for any hint of a parachute sticking out of the grass, but soon gave up on the idea. His night vision was pretty good, but he couldn't spot any hint of a disturbance in the waves of yellow grass. He glanced towards the horizon, where sunlight was beginning to crawl up into the sky. _Any more light and they'll pick me out from a mile away._ _Stupid white fur!_ The arctic wolf looked down to his paws and the bright white fur that covered them. He'd tried dying it several times, but he was allergic to some of the chemicals in the dye, leaving him rashed from head to toe and even more dumb looking than before. _Stupid genes._ _Maybe I just need to dress up like Spider Fox, all black, covering up all of this dumb white fur. Maybe I could be a supervillain. Yeah that'd be fun! I could call myself: Black Claws, oh oh, or maybe The Si-_

His daydream hit a dead end when a familiar piercing sound met his ears, Instantly realizing what the noise meant. _The plane!_ He looked upwards, searching the dimly lit sky for the small silhouette of the drop plane. After a brief moment of searching, he picked out a rapidly approaching plane, recognizing it as the usual B-57 Canbeara that made most of their drops. It was an old retired war plane, but it carried huge loads at exceptional speeds, so they used it for pretty much everything.

The jet seemed to be unusually high and fast, but it was at the right place at least. _How on earth does he blow that whistle going 400 mph plus in a jet with no windows?_ It was the first time it had ever occurred to him. _That weasel has his tricks._

As he sped across the sky, they could see a large black crate drop from its bomb bay, plummeting towards the ground at an amazing speed and tumbling through the air as it went. A large black parachute unfolded from it, slowing the crate down so that it could gently float down to the field. The rumble of the engines could barely be heard as he zoomed overhead and away, disappearing into the grey wispy clouds above them.

 _FINALLY!_ Gerry lept up from where he had been sitting in the grass for nearly five hours, happy for the freedom to move once again. He took a few bounding steps in the direction of the falling package before he remembered that he may need help carrying it. _Oh! Saul!_ He spun around to see the smaller wolf still tied to a tree where he had left him, watching forlornly as the white wolf had bounded away. He jogged over to him and pulled at the complicated knot he had tied, able to undo it with only a few tugs here and there. Saul jumped up to his feet as soon as the last loop fell from around him, a big frown on his face.

"You didn't have to tie me up, you know!" He said hotly.

"And have you bounding around screaming about the ZBI? No way bud!"

A look of embarrassment came over the smaller wolf's face as he seemed to shrink into himself. "Let's just go get the thing, I wanna go home." And with that, the two companions jogged off to where the crate had now landed in the soft grass.

 _It's getting brighter, I hope we can heft it outta here before the ZBI shows up…_ Saul thought frantically as his head shot from left to right at light speed. _Man, I hope it isn't heavy, because now we don't have the van…_ He thought back to a few hours ago. _I could've sworn I saw a ZBI sniper in that corn field…_

Finally, the duo of wolves reached the large black object. Saul nearly ran into the thing, lost in his own thoughts. _Not surprising._ Gerry thought to himself.

It only took him a second to realize their problem. The black painted crate was nearly as tall as Gerry, reaching to just under his muzzle, and at least as long as a decent sized truck. _How were we supposed to get this thing in the van in the first place?!_ Leaning down to grab under the side boards of the crate, he tried to lift it. It came barely a few inches off the ground before he dropped it back onto the flattened grass beneath it, barely missing his paws. The contents clanked inside as it hit the ground again.

"How on earth are we supposed to walk all the way with _this_?!" Saul said, gesturing towards the hulking crate. Gerry gave him a dangerous look. "Well, for starters, we _were_ supposed to have a van!" Getting louder through the sentence until the last part was almost a yell. "Why did I ever let you drive?!" Gerry said quite angrily.

"Well, excuse me for being the vigilant one!" Saul shot back with a sneer.

"Vigilant? _Vigilant_?! YOU THOUGHT A SCARECROW WAS A SNIPER!" Gerry yelled, letting out his pent up frustration on the whole situation, no longer aware of his volume.

"Well it's not my fault they decided to put a broom in his hands just like someone would hold a sniper rifle!" Saul said.

Gerry grabbed a stick that had been laying on the ground near him and held it out in an awkward position, which had it pointed at the ground behind him. "You think THIS is how you'd hold a sniper rifle?!" He said waving his arm around.

"Well, it could have been a camel!"

"What does it being a camel have to do with all this!"

"Well, you see, some camels have this genetic disorder that limits the full motion of the shoulder joint, so if he had-" Saul was cut off as Gerry threw the stick at him, hitting him in the arm. "Hey!" He said as he rubbed the spot where he had just been struck.

"Oh, shut up!" Gerry said. "We need to get back on task, or we won't ever get this crate moved. Now, I'm sure that there's a tractor in one of these barns, and if we can find a trailer-"

"But the tractor would be bunny size."

"We'll just have to sacrifice some comfort! Is that so bad!"

"But the trailer would be bunny size too, and I don't think a huge crate like this is even going to fit on it. How'd you plan on getting on the trailer anyways?" Saul said with an inquisitive look. Gerry's brow furrowed in frustration.

"We'll just have to find some car jacks somewhere!"

"But wouldn't they be-"

"Bunny sized! Yes! Now shut up so we can get this done!" Gerry yelled into his face. Saul recoiled, but said nothing else.

 _Sheesh! What's his problem! All I do is try to help him be informed, and all HE does is get mad at me! Why, if only I could choose my partner for myself, then maybe-_

Saul never got to finish the thought, because as soon as he turned away from the crate to look for the nearest barn, he instead found himself staring at the pointed tips of a bunny sized pitchfork.

 **AN:**

 **Hey guys! This is my first story, so I hope you enjoy! I'm open to constructive criticism, so lemme know what you think!**

 **~hungrygiant**


	2. Owl Hunting

Chapter 2

Owl Hunting

"Hey, hey Sheila, wanna hear a joke?"

" _Why yes, Clarky poo!_ "

"Okay okay, what'd the alpaca say to his friend?"

" _Oh, I don't know, what?_ "

"Wanna go on a picnic? _Alpaca_ lunch! BWAHAHAHAAAA!" The weasel doubled over in the seat, heaving with laughter at his own joke, unable to say anything else as his own humor overwhelmed him. He stayed down there for a minute or two, rolling around.

"Oh, oh Sheila, you're the best, ya know?" He said as he straightened himself back into his seat, still snickering at his pun, but he got no response. He looked over at sheila who was sitting on top of the instrument panel and leaned one elbow onto the yolk of the plane, trying to look as suave as possible, which wasn't very suave at all.

"Hey Sheila, wanna hear another one?" He said, already starting to snicker at his next joke before he told it.

" _Why, of course I do Clarky poo!_ " He said in a high pitched voice, grabbing the pawaiian hula bobble head off the top of the panel, wiggling it around as he made Sheila's voice.

" _I just LOVE your jokes, they're soooo funny!_ " He said while moving her head up and down with his thumb as he talked.

"So, why was the amphibian waiting for the bus?" He said, on the verge of letting his laughter break loose.

" _Oh, I don't know! Do tell!_ " He cooed, wiggling the toy around in his paw.

"Because his car got _toad_! BWAHAHAHAAAAAAHAAAAAAAAAA!" He dropped back down into his seat, unable to control himself as he rolled back and forth and off onto the floor with a thud, writhing with laughter.

" _Hee hee, oh haha, that's one of the funniest things I've ever heard!_ " He said, holding Sheila up above himself.

"You might say that it was one of the _seal_ eist things you've ever heard! BWAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!"

" _Oh hee hee! Come here, Clarky, give me a kiss!_ "

Clark sat up off the floor and waggled his eyebrows at the bobble head in his paws.

"Well, if the lady insists…" He said with a goofy smile, puckered up and leaned in for a wet kiss, but was interrupted by a familiar voice coming over the radio.

"Molten Lead? Molten Lead do you copy?"

"REALLY?! YOU HAVE TO CALL ME NOW, JEFF?!" Clark screamed into the microphone as he angrily, but gently, put Sheila back up on top of the instrument panel.

"I'M KINDA IN THE MIDDLE OF SOMETHING?! WHAT'S SOOO IMPORTANT?!" He yelled, throwing his arms over his head as he over emphasized every word.

"Jeez man, boss told me to call you, don't get so mad…" Jeff said back, sounding a little nervous.

"What were you doing, anyways?" He asked, slightly curious as to what could have gotten Clark so bent out of shape.

"Oh, uh, I was, uh… organizing my CD's? Uh, yeah, I was organizing my CD's! That's totally what I was doing! I was definitely not doing anything else weird or anything, just being, uh, normal! Yeah!" Clark said back into the mic with a nervous grin.

"Were you about to make out with that bobble head agai-"

"NO! I WASN'T! AND _THAT BOBBLE HEAD_ HAS A NAME! IT'S _SHEILA_!"

"Look, buddy, I hate to burst your weirdo bubble, but Sheila isn't alive." Jeff said.

"Yeah, and you aren't fat, and what we're doing isn't illegal."

"I'm just big boned…" Jeff said, a little quieter than before.

"Sure, tell that to your girlfriend. Anyways, what did you so _rudely_ interrupt my romantic evening for!" Clark said, wanting to get to the point so that he could get back to his and Sheila's business.

"Well, the tech guys were listening in on government phone lines, like usual, and they overheard some air force guy talking about an emergency dispatch out over Bunny Burrow and the boss wanted me to tel-"

"WHAT?! WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY THAT IN THE FIRST PLACE?!" Clark shouted point black into the microphone as his eyes boggled, his face turning red with anger at the delayed news.

"IknowIknowIknowsorry! Look, just make the drop and get out of there before they catch up! The boss also said that he's dropping your pay on this one because you were supposed to drop an hour ago an-"

"Well maybe if I didn't have a bajilion ton crate in the bomb bay, I would've gone a little faster!" Clark shot back, waving his paws frantically back to where the crate was secured in the bomb bay behind the cockpit, even though he knew Jeff couldn't see it.

"Just get the drop done, okay? Boss says you can't afford to screw it up." And with that, the radio went silent.

Clark buried his face into his paws, muttering something about "Late… detours… Sheila…" and flopped back into his seat, flicking on his GPS in the process.

Clark was the proud pilot of the _Molten Lead_ , and old retired B-57 Canbeara. The plane was a twin engine jet, with one long engine on each wing, and it was painted with a non-reflective black paint, all except for the nose art. It was painted by none other than Clark himself, and it depicted a large bullet that had the appearance of cherry hot metal with large angry looking eyes on it. He would have painted Sheila onto it, but he made the mistake of mentioning it to boss, and sadly, it never happened.

It could fly at exceptional speeds, even with heavy loads such as it's current payload. The _Molten Lead_ was one of the most notorious smuggling planes of them all, and just about every illegal foreign drug sold in Zootopia came from its bomb bay, which Clark never missed an opportunity to brag about to his coworkers.

Clark pulled on his bright yellow flight helmet and made sure he had oxygen flow. Checking the GPS screen, he found that he was still a few minutes out from Bunny Burrow, and would be able to make the drop in no time. He glanced out of the cockpit and into the early morning sky, taking a rare moment to admire it.

Sunlight was starting to stream in from over the horizon, and from up in the sky where Clark was, it made an amazing light show in the clouds, an ever shifting painting as the wind blew and his perspective changed. Down below him were the rolling grassy knolls of the Zootopian countryside, with the occasional house or farm dotting the landscape.

He had always wondered what it would be like to live in the country on a little farm. Sometimes, he'd lay awake at night and try to imagine a life without fake ID's and avoiding the law, and just how peaceful it would be if he weren't caught up in the tangle of the black market and such. He could picture himself in a little cottage, sipping coffee as he watched a sunrise just like this one. He sighed to himself. _Get those thoughts outta your mind, man. You've got a job to do._

As the lolling country scrolled by beneath him, he spotted Bunny Burrow, cresting just beneath the horizon; a sprawling panorama of fields with budding crops, old barns, and tiny white houses. The way the light came through the clouds over the sleepy town made it look like an oil painting hanging in a museum.

Clark took a second to enjoy the scene. It wasn't every day he got to see this much beauty, especially in his ugly line of work.

"I sure wish I had a camera, Sheila. Don't you just wanna watch this one a million times?" He said, soaking up the image.

His bliss was interrupted by a shrill beeping coming from his GPS, letting him know he was close enough to sound the whistle. He looked away from the sunrise, albeit reluctantly, and switched off the noise.

He reached down the side of his seat and grabbed the specially tuned dog whistle from a storage compartment there. The pitch was set so that it wouldn't register for most mammals except for canines, like the two buffoons who were the pickups for this one.

Clark had a special hole drilled into the front of the cockpit just for this purpose. He reached forward over the instrument panel and started unscrewing the long threaded plug, with the whistle in his other paw.

The plug shot out into his paw as the outside air rushed in. He quickly shoved the specially shaped whistle through, letting the speed of the outside air do all the work for him.

He leaned over the bombsight that he had specially moved to the pilots seat for his ease and flicked the switch to open up the bomb bay. He watched as the ground rushed past beneath him, waiting for the perfect moment to release his payload.

…

…

…

"NOW!" He shouted as he dropped the crate. The _Molten Lead_ seemed to jump up a little higher for a second, happy to be rid of its heavy burden.

" _Great job, Clarky poo! I just knew you could do it!_ " He said, snatching Sheila up into his paw.

"Show's only half over, sweetheart!" He said.

"All I gotta do know is to lose them air force planes. Should be no problamo in this puppy!" Clark said as he sat back in his seat and prepared for a chase, not feeling quite as confident as he tried to sound.

"Let's just hope I got enough gas for it…"

 _If I find out one of them Hopps kids has another dog whistle, I'll paddle em myself! I don't care what Stu says at this point, cause I aint been able to sleep for more than an hour this past week!_ Greg thought as he marched along the dirt road.

He and his family had been woken up by a stupid dog whistle one too many times, and he knew it was the Hopps kids that had them. He'd caught one of the little ones yesterday hiding in his front yard bushes, just tooting the darn thing and giving him and his whole family headaches. He thought it would've been the end of it when he took it, showed it to Stu, and got the little rascal grounded, but nope! Here he was again, awake at some ungodly hour of the morning because of those fluffy delinquents!

This time, it had only been a short blast, but it was about as loud as a train whistle in his ears.

When he had heard it, he shot out of bed and stormed straight out the door and in the direction of the Hopps farm.

 _Perhaps I should've grabbed some pants…_ He thought as the icy night wind went right through his undershirt and boxers. He had been in such a hurry to get over there, he hadn't bothered to grab any clothes and had marched out the door in nothing but his PJ's.

 _I must be one hell of a sight!_ He thought. An old fox, grumpy, tired, scowling, and walking down a dirt road in nothing but his underwear and a stained up under shirt at way-too-early O'clock in the morning.

 _At least it's not a rainy morning._ He thought with a bit of optimism as he gazed upward to where the sun had started to stain the thin clouds. It was actually quite the beautiful morning, and he would have enjoyed watching the sunset with a mug of coffee, sitting on his porch with his wife. But not today, this morning had already been ruined by his little fluffy neighbors and that abomination-of-science dog whistle! _If I knew who invented that demon whistle, I'd strangle em til doomsday!_

Up ahead, he could see a black van parked right next to his fence.

 _That must be them!_ He thought with a sour smile, and quickened his pace.

As he approached the van, he could see that it wasn't just parked next to his fence, but in it. It was rammed right up against a thick metal post, and the tires were turned different directions on each side.

"YOU LITTLE FISH TURDS CRASHED INTO MY FENCE!" He screamed at the van, marching right towards the drivers side.

"YOU'RE GONNA BE PAYING FOR MY FENCE POST, YOU, YOU LITTLE-"

He angrily jerked open the door, only to find no one inside. _They must of made a run for it._ He thought to himself with a nod and a grumpy "Hmph!"

"Yeah, run back to your pap! Doesn't matter! I'm _still_ gonna tell him _all_ about your dang whistle and how you wrecked your stupid van! You aint talkin out of this one!" He shouted out into his field, but he never got a response. Just the sound of wind blowing through the corn.

He spared a glance at his scarecrow. It was so poorly made, he doubted it would ever keep the crows off, but it sure did keep the little ones out. Thing had an eerie sort of scare to it.

He finished the rest of his walk in silence, listening to the crickets and cicadas out in the fields, and reached the Hopps farm in no time.

He put on the best angry old man face he could and marched up to the front door, but right before he could bang on the wood, it jerked open and a mighty sharp looking pitchfork was waving frantically out of the doorway.

"STAY AWAY! STAY AWAY YOU DEMON BIRD!" An angry rabbit yelled as it stepped out into the moonlight.

"Stu! Stu! Put that darn fork down! It's just me! It's Greg, Greg Grey!" The fox yelled, jumping back as to not get impaled.

"Here!" The rabbit said, shoving a rusty butter knife into the fox's paws.

"You'll need this! Now follow me!" And without explanation, he jumped off the porch and hid behind a bush, his eyes flicking all around.

"What on earth has gotten into you?!" Greg said as he stared in disbelief.

Stu's eyes went wide with fear as he turned toward him saying only one word.

"OWL!"

No sooner had it been said than Greg dove for the bush headfirst. He landed on his chest and scrambled to get into the small shadow, the dog whistle completely forgotten.

"Did you see it? Which way did it go? How big is it? Did you call the control?" He rambled as his head turned nearly every direction possible, looking for a giant monster in the sky.

"I did better, I called the air force!" Stu said, looking proud of himself for taking such initiative.

"YOU DID WHAT!" Greg yelled. Stu clamped his paws around his muzzle.

"Shh! Shh! Yeah, I did! I called SWAT too!"

"You involved the _military_?!"

"Yeah! Last time we had an issue with a hawk, it took them _two whole days_ to catch it in a 'humane' way, but I've heard bullets and missiles work much faster!"

"You can't just call the armed forces to deal with an owl! How'd you even get them to come out?"

"I told them there was a killer flying around in the sky, and then I hung up."

"Look, you've got to go back and tell them what's really going on, I mean-" Just then, Greg was interrupted by what sounded like yelling out in the wheat field. They both jumped in fright at the noise.

"W-was that an o-owl?" Greg said in a hushed voice.

"I don't know, Gregory. I've never heard one before."

"Well it sure sounds terrifying!"

"What if we ambush it!" Stu said, wrapping his paws around the pitchfork even tighter.

"You're crazy! You're tellin me you want me to follow you into that field in my underwear with nothin but an old butter knife?" When Greg looked up, he realized Stu had already started in the direction of the field.

 _I guess somebody has to keep him from getting killed_. He thought, reluctantly following the crazy buck into the wheat field.

Luckily, the wheat was tall enough to cover their heads when they crouched down, and they weaved through the grass as quietly as they could.

The closer they got to the source of the noise, the more they could pick out.

"YOU THOUGHT A SCARECROW WAS A SNIPER!"

"Well it's not my fault they decided to put a broom in his hands just like someone would hold a sniper rifle!"

"You think THIS is how you'd hold a sniper rifle?!"

Greg quietly shimmied his way over to Stu, who was listening quietly to their conversation.

"Psst, Stu, I know I never made it past sixth grade, but that sure as blueberries aint an owl!"

"Well, we might as well get them out of the field with the owl about, and watch your language Gregory! Good thing none of the kits were around to hear you say that!"

Stu stood up out of the wheat and walked up to the bickering mammals, who he could now see were wolves. They didn't seem to notice him as he marched up right behind the one in a track jacket, who when he turned around, almost impaled himself on the pitchfork.

The brown wolves eyes went wide as he froze in place, tail between his legs.

"Uh, um, uh, uh, Gerry?" He said, petrified with fear.

"Yes, yes, I know! The barn would also be bunny sized! Can you just shut up for one seco-" Gerry stopped and stared at the bunny and fox. _Great! This duo puts a WHOLE new wrench into this stupid pick up job!_

Stu lowered the pitchfork away from the wolf's face.

"What are you doing out here?! There's an _owl_ flying about!" He said, trying to be quiet.

"You mean that you're not with the ZBI-! oomph!" Gerry elbowed Saul in the side and glared at him.

"I think what my friend was _trying_ to say was if you knew where the nearest safe shelter was, right, _buddy_!" He said through clenched teeth, trying his best not to turn and clobber his idiot partner in front of the two farmers.

"Well, uh, oh! What about that big box!" Stu, said, pointing to the large black object.

"Wait, box? How in carrot canyon did that get here?" Stu said walking up to the suspicious crate.

"Uh, actually," Gerry said, putting his arm around Saul's shoulders. "We were just tryin to figure that out for ourselves! Right?"

The shorter brown wolf had a confused look on his face, and started shaking his head 'no', but Gerry slapping him the back in a not so friendly way had him nodding 'yes' faster than a cheetah who drank to much OrangeBull.

"Yeah, we, uh, we crashed our van, and we were looking for a phone to call a tow truck when we spotted this thing in your field, and we decided to take a little look!" The arctic wolf said.

"SO YOU'RE THE FISH TURDS THAT RAN DOWN MY FENCE! YOU'RE GONNA PAY FOR A NEW FENCE POST YOU LITTLE HOOLIGANS!" Greg stomped from where he had been watching them from the wheat and was waving his butter knife around, bits of spittle coming from his mouth as he screamed at the two wolves.

Stu jumped and tackled him to the ground before he could continue.

"Gregory! The owl Gregory! Shhh!"

Greg covered his mouth, eyes going wide as he realized that he could've just given away where they were to the owl. They both crawled into the shadow of the crate, hoping that it would be enough to keep the owl from seeing them.

"Hey, where'd those wolves go?" Said Stu, looking around, but seeing no one but his neighbor.

Just then, jets shot over the farm, shaking the trees with their force and probably waking every mammal up for a few miles around. Stu and Greg ducked down by instinct as the earth rumbled around them.

As the jets flew further away into the morning sky, a new sound filled their ears. Several black SWAT vans were barreling down the dirt road towards the farm, and tailing those were two armored vehicles with nasty looking guns poking out the front.

Greg turned to the old rabbit, rubbing his paws over his ears in frustration.

"I guess we got a fair amount of explaining to do, right?"

"I wouldn't worry, we had the _whole_ thing under control!"


End file.
